


A Different Kind of Maker

by iswyn



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers AU, BAMF Tony, Dragon Age/Avengers AU, Lady Loki, Loki Needs a Hug, Other, m/f because Loki is a girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iswyn/pseuds/iswyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has grown up in the Circle of Magi, and she expects to spend the rest of her life there. When she meets a young Grey Warden named Anthony, she realizes that there may be more to the world than just the tower library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Maker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Horns of Mischief (Rinelin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinelin/gifts).



> This is for one of my lovely doxies, [Horns-of-Mischief](http://horns-of-mischief.tumblr.com/), who inspires us all with her gorgeous art. [She made these amazing arts for the frostiron bang, but alas, in the end there was no story to go with them.](http://horns-of-mischief.tumblr.com/post/101182157983/since-both-of-my-frostiron-bang-authors-had-to) So here it is, a story for Horns. 
> 
> Happy birthday!

 

Loki was fourteen the first time a Templar tried to sleep with her.

One moment he had been calling her an animal in need of a leash, and the next he had been inviting her back to his quarters. To read the chant of light with him, he'd said.

Loki knows other apprentices who fell for invitations like that hoping for special treatment, or maybe even just basic respect. It never works. They just get a reputation with the Templars as easy to coerce, and if anything, they get treated worse.

When she’s nineteen, rumors of a blight start circulating. That’s when the Grey Warden shows up with his apprentice.

The boy—and he is a boy, barely older than Loki herself—is wearing the arms and armor of a Templar, but he isn’t anything like the Templars at the tower. They’re all overbearing and arrogant, and most of the time they barely contain their hatred for mages and all things magical.

There are a few exceptions, like that adorable fellow Cullen, who’s a little more like a puppy than a Templar. He’s terrified of Loki, though, and while she appreciates the lack of disgust, it’s hard to respect someone whose knees start knocking the second you walk into the room. It’s definitely not something she finds attractive in a man. She doesn’t think she’d mind subservience, but she’s not looking for outright spinelessness.

The Templars are also very strict about ‘fraternization’ between apprentices. So even if Loki found any of her fellow apprentices attractive, the Templars would have put a stop to it before it went anywhere. Like that poor fellow Jace, who was made Tranquil because he just wouldn’t stop flirting with the girls.

Loki isn’t stupid. She knows that Tranquil is just another way of saying dead inside.

All of that is basically to say that Loki hasn’t met a lot of attractive people in her life, much less ones whom she’s allowed to admire.

And the Grey Warden’s apprentice, well… he’s different.

She sees him in the entryway when they arrive, but the apprentices aren’t allowed to socialize with honored guests. Or any guests, really. The warden is middle aged, and has an air of sadness that makes Loki’s eyes want to slide away from him in protest. The apprentice? Well, the few seconds glimpse she gets of him tell her he’s nothing like that.

Everyone is talking about the visit behind closed doors; whichever part they find the most important. A Grey Warden has come to the tower. He’s here because there really is a blight growing in the south. The warden has a handsome young apprentice who’s kind and strong and oh-so-dreamy. (Disallowing fraternization has interesting side effects on the attitudes of the apprentices.)

They also say that the apprentice used to be a Templar.

Loki wonders how one ceases to be a Templar. She wonders if it’s similarly possible to cease being a tower apprentice.

It’s not that she doesn’t love magic, just that she doesn’t like the idea of spending the rest of her life a prisoner just because she has an innate talent.

The next time she sees the apprentice is at dinner that first night. The mages’ apprentices all serve at the tower; the Templars call it payment for their training. Loki calls it slavery, but no one cares what she thinks.

She wasn’t slated to serve dinner, but apparently First Enchanter Irving thinks she’s one of the least likely to act like an idiot in front of the guests. She’s not sure whether to be pleased at the vote of confidence, or offended that she’s been taken off dish duty. Washing the dishes always seems a little less like servitude, somehow. Maybe because fewer Templars pinch her ass when she’s washing dishes.

Under the First Enchanter’s orders, she’s thrust into the middle of a celebratory dinner, welcoming the warden and his apprentice to the tower. The Knight-Commander is always happy to have non-magical guests, and there’s a rumor that the warden is a personal friend of the king himself, so they truly get the royal treatment.

Sometimes it’s hard to pretend that the Circle of Magi tower is anything but a prison for wizards, especially when the knights feast while the mages pour their wine.

Loki works hard to reign in her irritation on occasions like this. She gets pinched so many times that she’s sure there are going to be bruises the next day. She gets called names that range from annoying (sweetheart) to irritating (wench) to full on if-only-I-could-kill-you (tasty little witch).

“What?” The deep voice, obviously irritated, causes the closest conversations to halt.

The warden’s apprentice is glaring at the knight with his hand on Loki’s ass. The knight who appears to be oblivious to any irritation he’s caused. Loki herself kind of wonders what he’s done, since all he’s been doing is groping her ass and calling her names.

It’s not like he was questioning the validity of the threatening blight, like the knight across the table.

After a moment, the knight—Loki thinks his name is Sven or something like that—finally notices he’s being glared at. “Can I do something for you, Warden?”

“You could start by taking your hand off the girl,” the apprentice practically growls. His voice gives Loki a little chill, and she’s not entirely sure it’s from fear.

“Girl? What girl?” Sven the stupid appears completely oblivious.

Really, though. Is the apprentice actually defending Loki?

“The girl you’re currently assaulting,” the apprentice drops his silverware on his plate and places his hands flat on the table, as though to push himself up. “You inbred nitwit. Take your hands off the girl.”

Sven laughs like the inbred nitwit he is. “It’s not a girl, Warden. It’s a mage.”

At that, the apprentice does push himself up from the table. As he takes a step toward Sven (or is it Stenn?), the elder warden’s calm voice cuts through the entire hall.

“Is something wrong Anthony?”

The entire hall falls silent at his words, something strangely compelling in his serene tone.

“Yes, Duncan, there is.” The apprentice—Anthony, apparently—stops his forward movement, but the tension in his stance doesn’t change. “This barbarian doesn’t understand that a gentleman doesn’t put his hands on a lady without an invitation to do so.”

The elder warden looks confused for a moment as he looks at Stenn. Stonn. No, maybe it’s Sven after all. “I believe that Anthony was referring to you, young man. Is there a reason you’re molesting that young lady uninvited?”

This is the moment where Sven finds his half-a-brain and decides to back down. He pries his fingers off Loki’s ass and puts both hands in the air with an expression that reads ‘happy now?’

Anthony ignores him entirely in favor of looking at Loki. “Are you quite alright, miss?”

Loki can only nod. She figures she’ll get some harassment for this later, but it’ll be worse if she laughs out loud, the way she wants to.

“Then,” Anthony flushes as he realizes that everyone in the room is looking at him. “Could I possibly have some more wine? If you’re not busy?”

Loki beams at him. “Anything you want, Grey Warden.”

Loki, of course, is not stupid. She hears the implication in her own words. She knows that the way she’s smiling at him could be considered provocative. She’s well aware that even as the Templars find her magic disgusting, they find her form and face pleasing. The way she’s acting could get her in a lot of trouble if Anthony isn’t the kind of man she thinks he is.

But Loki isn’t stupid.

As she leans over next to his seat to pour the wine, he smiles shyly at her. His eyes are naturally drawn to her cleavage as she leans over in front of him, and they flick back up to her eyes immediately, a new flush spreading across his cheeks. He actually whispers an apology.

In all her years both at and before the tower, Loki doesn’t think anyone has ever apologized to her. Certainly no one has apologized to her for something that wasn’t offensive to begin with.

So she shoots him her brightest smile and whispers back, “nothing for you to be sorry for, Warden.”

He looks at her searchingly for a moment before giving her a half-smile. The flush doesn’t disappear from his cheeks.

For someone who has never before attempted to flirt, Loki thinks she does pretty well.

“It—it’s Anthony,” he whispers to her. “If you like.”

“Well then, Anthony. I’m Loki.”

 

*

 

Unsurprisingly, Loki pays for having embarrassed Sven. Also, it turns out that his name really is Stenn. Loki continues calling him Sven, even to herself. He calls her frigid witch now, so she returns the favor by not caring what his name is.

Besides, she kind of likes ‘frigid witch’ as a designation. She likes ice spells.

It isn’t a surprise when one of his friends wakes her in the middle of the night to make her clean the entryway without the aid of a brush. Then, since she can’t be harassed while serving at meals as long as the wardens are present, she’s sent back to the kitchen, where the cook has been informed that ‘the mage has gotten uppity and thinks she’s too good for kitchen work.’

She’s set to peeling potatoes for the next three hours.

Then chopping onions for another two.

When she’s finally freed to go back to her studies in the afternoon, her hands are dry and starting to crack from the combination of too much water and then the sulphurous onions, and her eyes are bright red from two hours of onion abuse.

Of course she runs into Anthony.

He’s the first man she’s ever found attractive, so naturally she has to look like a mess in front of him.

None of the tower Templars have shiny dark brown eyes that twinkle with mischief. Or his smile, the one that reminds Loki of Irving’s that time she got caught pelting the Templars in the courtyard with overripe cherries—like he’s trying not to find everything amusing, it just is.

Instead of looking disgusted at her wrinkled clothes and red eyes, Anthony looks concerned.

“Are you alright, Milady?” He puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes lightly.

She instinctively leans into the pressure on her aching shoulder and gives a little moan of pleasure. His eyes round for a moment before they fill with understanding.

“Turn around,” he orders, before hesitating and adding, “if you would, Milady.”

Without question or concern, Loki turns. The five minutes that follow are possibly the best of Loki’s entire life. Anthony presses his thumbs into the aching muscles of her neck and shoulders. He knows just the places that hold the most tension, and Loki could almost swear he has some magical ability to take it away.

By the time he pulls his hands away, she feels more loose and pliant than after a long hot bath. She moans a little more and lets her head fall back against his chest.

“Better?” His voice is quiet when it comes, but it still holds that rumble from the dining hall. It gives her another shiver, and immediately after, his arms wrap around her. “Are you cold?”

“No,” she whispers, “I’m absolutely fine.”

“Good.”

They stand like that for a long moment, her back to his chest, breathing in near-unison. It’s the most intimate thing Loki can imagine, and she’s heard her roommates copulating under cover of darkness, so it’s not like she’s completely oblivious. With Anthony, it feels like more than a few stolen moments in the night.

“Any chance you could show me around?” he asks after a moment. “I’m sure you’re tired now, but maybe later. I hear you guys have a nice library.”

“We have the finest library in all of Ferelden,” Loki agrees. “Do you want to see it?”

Anthony pauses for a while, then Loki can feel that smile form against the back of her head. “No,” he says matter-of-factly. “Not at all.”

Loki is confused. “Then… why ask?”

“It’s not obvious?” Anthony asks, his tone showing as much confusion as Loki’s. Loki feels him stand up straighter as though steeling himself before speaking again. “I think you’re amazing. I want to spend time with you. Even if it means having to do it in the library.”

That does not lessen the confusion. She’s a mage, and he an ex-Templar. Why does he have any interest in her, other than hunting her down and beheading her if she decides to follow the wrong path?

“If you want, we could go outside? Take a walk outdoors?”

Before he even finishes speaking, Loki whips around to look him in the eye. “Outside? Outside the tower? I haven’t been outside the tower in five years.”

“So you’re using me to get some fresh air, huh?” Anthony jokes, genuine amusement on his face. “Seriously, though, Greagoir is going to let me have pretty much anything I want, so why don’t we take advantage of it?” He shudders a bit as he finishes that last sentence, and Loki can only imagine what the Knight-Commander has offered to give him.

“Yes,” Loki agrees. “Why don’t we take advantage of it? I need to bathe and change clothes first, though, these stink of the kitchen.”

“Meet you at the entryway in an hour?” He looks at her questioningly, and Loki knows without doubt that if she said no, he wouldn’t press her.

That is why she just nods happily.

She manages to slip past Sven and his friends, who are apparently looking for her to help with the laundry, takes an impressively fast bath, and changes into her favorite clothes. Okay, they’re pretty much the same as all her other clothes, but they fit better. Also, possibly they show off a little more cleavage than the others.

What? Anthony is handsome when he blushes because he accidentally looks at her breasts.

He is standing at the door when she arrives, but distressingly, he’s standing at the door with his mentor Duncan, and the Knight-Commander Greagoir. There is no universe in which Loki believes that to be a good sign. She almost turns right back around and heads upstairs.

Then she hears her name.

“—Loki. Yes, Duncan, she does have spirit. I hardly think that would aid your purpose, though.” Greagoir’s voice is even more grating than usual when it’s insulting her personally.

The First Enchanter would defend her if he were present, but Greagoir leaves him out of as many things as possible.

"Do you have some reason to believe she wouldn't be of value, Knight-Commander?" Duncan's voice never seems to change from that serene tone, but Loki thinks she hears censure in it as well.

"Yes, dammit," Greagoir spits out. "That one doesn't know her place yet."

So Loki decides to show the arrogant bastard her place. "Sorry I'm a bit late, Warden. One of the Templars was trying to keep me from fulfilling your request." She smiles brightly at Anthony before continuing, "shall we?"

"Excellent," he responds. "I was hoping you weren't being subjected to any more abuse at that fool's hands."

She smiles sadly and shakes her head as though giving a serious answer. "Don't hold it against Sven too much, Master Warden, he's already quite self-conscious about his intelligence."

Anthony nods, takes her by the arm, and heads to the door. The look he gives the Templars there brooks no resistance. "The young lady is going to show me around the tower grounds."

It's almost as though he wants them to question him.

They don't, though, and a moment later, Loki is drawing her first breath of truly fresh air in five years.

"Thank the maker," Anthony mutters as they walk. "That place is awful. I was starting to worry I was going to suffocate from a lack of fun."

Loki doesn’t even try to hold back her laughter, which is something of an unusual experience for her. “Try living there for thirteen years, and only being allowed outside when the Templars deem it acceptable.”

He shudders, and draws her arm closer in to his body. “You know, I used to—”

Before finishing the sentence, he cuts off sharply. Loki glances over, and he’s blushing and staring at his feet.

“I’ve heard, you know. You were a Templar before you were a warden. You probably thought we were dogs on the brink of going feral just like the rest of them.” She wasn’t sure what she was trying to accomplish with the unvarnished truth, but for some reason, she didn’t want to put on her best fake smile and pretend that she was happy. She wanted to talk about things the way they were.

He flushes more, but nods. “I killed a blood mage, once. He’d killed half a dozen servants in his escape from the tower, and a dozen peasants who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I always thought the blood came from the mage. I didn’t know they could…” he breaks off with a shudder.

Loki is shocked. She can’t help it, but she turns to stare at him. “They can? That’s… that’s disgusting. If you’re going to pervert your gift, you should at least do it yourself. Killing someone in the name of magic. It’s like when the Templars pretend that they’re killing in the name of the maker. Something that’s truly good would never demand that you kill anything.”

It’s only after she finishes talking that she realizes she’s revealed too much of herself, even considering his kindness. When she turns to look at him, though, he’s grinning at her.

“That’s exactly what I’ve always thought.” His hand tentatively slips from her arm to a loose grip around her waist. “It’s one of the reasons I wanted to become a Grey Warden. There’s no moral ambiguity in killing darkspawn. Not like hunting down mages who mostly seem to want to be left alone.”

Loki smiles at him, one of the most genuine smiles she’s ever had in her life. “We don’t always want to be left alone, you know.”

And for the first time in her life, her instinct tells her not only to lead, but to do the unthinkable. She leans up and presses her lips softly against his. He draws in a quick breath and stiffens for a moment, but then he positively melts into her. His other arm winds around her waist as well, and she lets him pull her against him. He doesn’t deepen the kiss or make with the grabby hands, he just stays like that, pressed against her, lips barely touching hers.

When he pulls away a moment later, he’s blushing. “Sorry. I—I’ve never done that before. I know I can’t be any good at it.”

“Neither have I,” Loki whispers conspiratorially. “And it seemed fine to me. Better, even.”

Feeling the eyes of the tower on her, Loki doesn’t initiate another kiss. The one is probably going to get around the tower as it is, and she doesn’t need any more trouble from the Templars than she already gets.

They find a tree and sit beneath it though, Tony’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist as they watch the sun set together.

He tells her about his foster father who sent him off to train as a Templar when he was little more than a boy—apparently his wife was jealous of the idea that he was the man’s bastard.

She tells him about her family in Highever; her father Laufey, her two older brothers, and the farm that she barely remembers. Did they grow wheat? Something like that. She loves her magic more than anything, but she remembers clinging to her father’s leg when the Templars came to take her away. Her father was horrified at losing his baby girl, but it wasn’t as though he could do anything about it.

By the time the sun sets, she’s ready to settle into the tree for the night and just sleep, resting her head on Anthony’s chest. She knows that even with his protection, though, she’ll be in trouble for that.

And in just a few days, he’ll be heading back to the front in Ostagar. He’ll probably die there. Loki wonders about her sanity when she realizes that her fondest wish is to go with him.

She could keep him safe there. He’s too good, too sweet for something as ugly as war. He needs someone like Loki to shield him from all the ugliness in the world.

They finally stumble back into the tower a few minutes after the dinner gong sounds. Loki is sure she’s going to be in trouble for not being there to serve, but the first thing she sees when they get into the entryway is Greagoir and Duncan, along with a mound of packed bags. She half wonders whether they ever even left the entryway in the three or four hours she and Anthony have been gone.

Greagoir looks even more annoyed than before, and it takes some work to stifle her amusement with his look of constipation.

He glares at her. “If you so much as annoy anyone in Ostagar, _mage_ , I’ll have you made tranquil before you can ask forgiveness.”

What?

Duncan puts a hand on his back and smiles at him, the serenity taking on a surprisingly threatening look. “Loki is a Grey Warden in training now, Knight-Commander. You agreed. She’s our responsibility, not yours, and if something happens, her punishment is our decision.”

She has to work to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.

Loki. Is a Grey Warden in training. She is leaving the tower. _She is free._

Anthony is practically hopping beside her, grinning from ear to ear. “So we found a new apprentice after all, huh? Guess I won’t be the low man on the totem pole anymore.” He nudges her side conspiratorially. “You’ll be taking your orders for me now,” he informs her, winking.

She can’t hold back her smile. There may or may not be a tear tracing its way down her cheek.

Duncan smiles at them in a way that reminds Loki of her father, and rolls his eyes at their antics. “I don’t know if you’ll both be so pleased in a moment. We’ve received word that we need to get back to Ostagar immediately, so we’re leaving now.”

Anthony frowns. “Before dinner?”

Duncan sighs. “No, Anthony, after dinner, but still this eve. We’ll be travelling through the night.”

“Oh that,” Anthony says dismissively. “As long as we get to eat, I’m sure we’ll be okay. Loki can’t serve, though. She needs to get plenty of food so she’ll have energy for the road.”

Duncan nods thoughfully.

Greagoir huffs and stomps off to the dining room, muttering something about having a place set for the _damned mage_.

Duncan turns to follow, but stops after a moment and looks back at them. “I almost forgot. The tower didn’t have an extra tent they could give us.” He smiles at them, the most expression she’s ever seen on his face, and adds, “So the two of you are going to have to share. I do hope it isn’t a problem.”

 


End file.
